


Never A Damsel

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 00:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: Old friends, snowfights, and helping out.





	Never A Damsel

**Author's Note:**

> Found in an old file and clearing out. I think it was originally a scene from 'A Woman Of Edges' before I decided I didn't like where it was taking the story.

Warned by Maria's shout, Steve has just enough time to turn and punch out the lead mook.  
  
Then the fight's on and he ducks and dodges and weaves and punches on instinct, sliding his shield off and using it as attack and defence both. The men aren't trying to kill him – at least, not that he can tell. They have weapons, but most stay in their holsters.  
  
Most, not all.  
  
The shots echo in the cold, clear air – sharp and vicious among the snowy ridges, and Steve hears the return fire from Hill behind him. He delivers an uppercut with the edge of his shield to the jaw of the nearest man. The crunch of bone against the metal rim is both painful and satisfying as the man stumbles back, tripping over the body of one of his companions at the ledge.  
  
His arms windmill as he slips onto damp rock, and his scream is torn away by the still-blowing wind.  
  
Steve glances around – eight men, capped and uniformed, seven dead and bleeding out or down for the count, and one dead – or rapidly on his way there.  
  
"I think they're old friends of yours," Hill says from where she's leaning against the rock face, her gun still out and ready as she indicates the nearby downed man. It takes Steve a moment to realise she's pointing at the man's shoulder and the circular patch there, but when he does...  
  
The skull and tentacles are a grim, steely grey against the black rather than the blood-bright red they used to be, but the HYDRA insignia is unchanged.  
  
Steve yanks the patch away and stares at it, a cold anger balling in his gut. For a moment, all he can hear is Schmidt declaring, if a head is cut off, two more shall take its place! Then he focuses on Hill. "Sorry, what did you say?"  
  
"They didn't come very far. They're not dressed for mountain climbing."  
  
"You think they had a camp within walking distance?"  
  
"It's possible."  
  
Steve glances around at the bodies and feels a wave of hatred for the evil he thought he'd left seventy years behind. "We'll search them first. They might have something--" He stops as he realises Maria is leaning heavily against the cliff face, her hand pressing against her side, just under her arm,. "You got hit? Why didn't you say--?"  
  
"It's more of a graze than an actual wound." But it's still bleeding pretty heavily, although the cold seems to have slowed it a little. Steve helps Maria down to the ground, and she lets him, which is probably a pretty good indicator that she's in shock. She rests her head against the rock for a moment, closing her eyes. Alarmed, Steve gives her a little shake and her lashes fly up.  
  
"Hey. Stay with me."  
  
"Not like I'm going anywhere."  
  
The humour startles him, lifting his gaze from the torn edges of her jacket to her face. Maria's nose is red with the wind and her face milk-white with the shock, but her eyes are still sharp and clear blue.  
  
"Well, stay awake. How bad is it?"  
  
"Didn't hit anything vital." She hisses as he pulls at the cloth beneath her bloody hand, and pushes him away, gesturing towards the dead. "See if there's anything informative on them."  
  
"And you?"  
  
Her lips part in something that's almost a smile. "I promise not to bleed out."  
  
Steve steals glances at her as he searches the pockets of the dead men, one eye on the oncoming storm. Maria deals with her wound with a grit-toothed practicality, even though her hands are shaking by the time he returns with what little he's collected off the dead men.  
  
"Need help with that?"  
  
She hesitates. Then, "Thank you."  
  
Steve pins the edges of her clothing together, his fingers clumsy in the thick gloves. He wants to tell her not to be so insistent on doing for herself, but in the last few months since he woke up, he's come to understand that a woman - especially a beautiful one - might not want to seem helpless, even when injured.  
  
"We'll head back the way they came," he says as he finishes up. "I got you one of their coats, too, since your own is ripped."  
  
Maria starts easing herself up, and Steve resists the urge to help by picking up the coat - a man's size and over large for her - and holding it out for her to put on. She makes it pretty clear she doesn't want him hovering, but it's also pretty clear that she's not quite steady on her feet.  
  
"Here, lean on me--"  
  
She makes a strangled noise, like a laugh quickly aborted, but her hand loops up under his arm and grips his shoulder in a hold that's more desperate than human. "I hate being the damsel."  
  
Steve smiles as the weight of her presses into his side, her need of support overriding her natural instinct to stand on her own two feet. "Hill, you'll never be a damsel."

 


End file.
